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Overview
Lives in a remote Northumbrian valley are separated by centuries but woven togeher in the heart of the trees.
Coquetdale, Northumberland
1725. After the final tragedy of an age-old feud, Sam’s mother disappears. His guilt-ridden search brings unexpected adventure and romance. As a fellow of the secret order of ‘The True’, Sam learns to enhance his affinity with nature, and enigmatic links across time are revealed to him in ancient woodlands.
2000. Isolated hill-farmer, Kate, is cautiously attracted to an intriguing stranger brought to her door by endearing runaway, Joe. The man is certainly odd but not disturbing, unlike her stalker. Further down the dale, Kate’s woodsman cousin, Nick, falls in love with a mysterious young woman who arrives with spring and disappears as summer ends.
Middle Wood links these seemingly disparate lives separated by centuries, but is that their only connection? Does the answer lie with The True?
"A story is never finished until you can read it in the trees."
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9781916142206 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Antler House Press |
Publication date: | 10/04/2019 |
Pages: | 378 |
Product dimensions: | 5.06(w) x 7.81(h) x 0.84(d) |
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
SHE ARRIVED WITH SPRING
FOG
KILCAITH CASTLE
Birch
TRUE
Rowan
THE LECTURE
Ash
THE HAWK & THE HERON
THE COVERT
JUMPERS
Beech
HORSESHOE PRIORY
THE EVERY TREE
CONNECTION
THE STRANGER
Alder
THE KING’S HEAD
THE VALLEY
Oak
SCIENTIA POTENTIA EST
ITCH SCRATCH ITCH
PULLING THREADS
Willow
BABES IN THE WOOD
CLOUDBERRY
WANTED
FUTURE, PAST, PRESENT
THE PATIENT
Sycamore
YAN, TYAN, TETHERA
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
PAPER KISSES
LOST AND FOUND
ROCK ART
REVELATION
THE RECORD PLAYER
EN GARDE
DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
WAIFS AND STRAYS
HORIZONTAL LINES
SAMHAIN
Yew
UNFINISHED BUSINESS
A SPIDER’S WEB
ARBOREAL SCRIBE
Woodland
We are woodland and we are never silent. Never.
Do you hear our voice?
Wind often makes our trees dance and shake to the rhythm of the day, be it a gentle, leaf-ruffling breeze or an all-out branch-cracking gale. Rain falls demurely onto our blankets of welcoming greenery with a hushed sigh, or spitefully stabs anything in its path in a desire to be heard. Birds sing sweet songs from our boughs and branches, squirrels scritchety-scratch up our trunks of wrinkly bark, and throngs of insects hum incessantly around us.
But these sounds are not our voice.
Only a few remaining wise hearts hear our voice — the ancient word of the forest — and understand the true connection.
Listen.
We are a living, breathing, connected community.
We are alive.
We are life.